And Those Voices Won't Leave Me Alone
by dribblestheturtle
Summary: Set some time after Reid being held hostage during the Henkel case at the end of season 2: Reid cannot forget, Morgan helps him cope.


**Disclaimer: **I do not own Criminal Minds in any shape of form, no matter how dearly wish to do just that.

**Author's Note:** I do not advise people who might find offense in the mention of **voices, violence** to read further than to this point. Also, if you do take ill to the **hints of Moreid** in this story, stay far, far away. If you do not like this oneshot, I'd like to know what exactly it is that irritates you about it. Leave a comment, please. But you don't _have_ to dislike the story for reviewing. I appreciate all of them just the same. Thanks ~ _Charlotte_.

**And Those Voices Won't Leave Me Alone**

The world spins around me, taunts my intelligence, over and over again. I'm in my room at some hotel. We're at a case, but I think I haven't been that far away from reality in ages, if ever. I'm going through the crime scene pictures over and over again, trying to find a detail we haven't seen before, but my mind doesn't even register the faces on the pictures, their dead eyes simply not seeing any more. And over and over again the faces blur and take on my own features, long hair getting shorter, soft cheekbones turning sharp.

_You are disgusting._, it screams and I can't. Can't bring myself to not believe. Can't stop the sobs and whimpers escaping my throat. Can't get rid of the images. All those countless images in my head. Of him_, _Rafael. Of them, those innocent girls, as they lay there, bedded on the dead leaves of the tree-like carcases standing tall and dark hovering over them. I taste a stale disgusting metal flavor in my mouth, not really registering what it is. I slowly touch my mouth and look at my fingers. They are smeared with blood. Blood like liquid gold. I let out a shallow laugh, it sounds like a humorless bark and I don't even recognize my own voice any more. I can't help the sobs, they just come and I can't bring myself to care any more. I can't bring myself to feel, can't bring myself to want to live. I slowly let go of the world, slipping through my fingers.

And suddenly there's his soft voice, a warm hand grabbing mine, keeping me from falling, falling. _You are not worth the wasting of his breath._, screams the horrible taunting voice and the warm hand's grip loosens. No. No, please. No! And everything I can see as I fall is brown, brown like molten chocolate as it slowly fades away like my voice pleading for help ceases and I cannot feel, cannot taste, cannot see, cannot hear.

* * *

He is torn from his dreamless sleep by heartbreaking sobs. He sighs. The kid hasn't slept well in ages, he knows and really wants to help, but he simply can't get through to the young doctor. He rubs the sleep out of his eyes and sighs again, standing up and stretching his sore muscles. He won't be sleeping anyways, he can at least try to comfort the brunette next door, even though he knows it's almost useless. The lithe man won't talk to him, no matter how much he wants him to confide in him. He needs it, almost and it hurts him to no end. Why can't the brunette trust him? He walks over to the chair he threw his clothes over and picks them up one by one, getting into them. Looking at himself in the mirror, he lets out one last sigh and slips out of his room and silently knocking on the door to the one to his right. He doesn't have to wait long until he hears shuffling behind the door, which then creaks open a tiny bit. What he sees shocks him to no end though; Reid's hair sticks in every direction, the shadows under his eyes are more prominent than the actual eyes and a dried path of blood is making its way from his mouth down to the man's throat before vanishing in his rumpled shirt's collar. The young man looks like hell, there is no way of putting that nice.

"Hey, kid."

* * *

_And there he stands in his full glory._, I think as I look at my handsome colleague. Why is he even here? Doesn't he see that I'm well past the point where any saving would do any good? _How must I look?_, I think as I guiltily duck my head. He must be so disgusted with what he sees. How can he not? I surely am.

"I'm sorry for waking you...", I mumble an apology, already closing the door. _Just don't let him see you like this. He doesn't have to know how sick you are._, my mind tells me, as if he hasn't already seen. The duration of that moment wouldn't change anything about my pitifulness.

"You think _that_ is why I am here?", the man asks incredulously as he puts his foot between my door and it's frame.

"Well, yes...", I sneak a quick look at his face, his gorgeous face, "... If I didn't, you would be, well, sleeping."

He chuckles. "Probably, genius.", he pauses, "Let me in?"

"No. Go away."

"No chance." He easily holds the door open.

"Please, Morgan...", I beg. That is what I've become.

"Hey, Pretty Boy..." His voice is full of sympathy, emotion. Does he really care? About _me_?

"No... Please, don't..." Wonderful. That's all it takes to make me cry nowadays. I try to hide it, I desperately do as I attempt to push the door in his face, but he's faster. Strong arms collect me in them as my feet give away and god, I haven't felt that alive in weeks. That in itself is probably the best description of how pathetic I have become. I can't force my body to stop trembling under the hysteric sobs I let out and all he does is hold me tight.

_Why would he do this? Would he really go that far to embarrass me? Or get me fired? Maybe he just gets satisfaction out of how desperately I need him? _

There it is again. This doubting voice in my head, making me cry even harder.

* * *

He doesn't know what he is supposed to do with the sobbing doctor in his arms, really, so he just guides the trembling figure over to the two armchairs in the corner of the room and tries to make him sit down. The brunette doesn't budge though and remains clinging to the man, so that he doesn't have much choice but pulling the lithe man onto his lap, where he stays snuggled up to Morgan's chest. Oddly enough, the older man doesn't find this sitting arrangement nearly as awkward as he should and is slowly drawing what he supposes are soothing circles on his colleague's back. He finds it is comforting himself, strangely.

And slowly, slowly the crying ebbs away, leaving comfortable silence in it's wake. There they sit, Morgan in the clothes of the day before and Reid in his dishevelled pajamas, clutching onto each other for dear life and slowly falling asleep on each other. Both men don't say a word, but something, a tiny piece in their universe shifts to a silent agreement, no words needed, really. It's just there and from this day on, Dr. Spencer Reid's horrific nights get fewer and fewer, ultimately disappearing completely, with Derek Morgan by his side all the while.

_**Fin**_


End file.
